Quiet Nights
by CrazyOkie
Summary: Things have gotten quiet in Gotham. Gotham no longer needs Batman. Bruce Wayne decides to retire and marry Silver St. Cloud. But it seems someone has an axe to grind with Bruce Wayne...Includes Dick Grayson while he was still Robin.
1. Chapter 1

Quiet Nights

Batman stood on the top of Wayne Tower, poised and ready to jump. As he stood there, surveying his city, the radio in the Batmobile was scanning the police frequencies. It fed anything it picked up straight to the headphones built into his cowl. Usually it was a constant chatter of muggings, robberies and homicides. Tonight it was quiet. That was unusual in an ordinary city but in Gotham it was unheard of. All of the major villains in his Rogue's Gallery were all safely locked away in Blackgate Prison or Arkham Asylum. The majority of the Falcone family was in prison and the mob was effectively broken in Gotham. Ra's al Ghul was dead and buried. The Batman owned the nighttime in Gotham.

Well, maybe he'd make a quick patrol of the city and call it an early night for once. Wouldn't Alfred be surprised? The thought of the shock on Alfred's face at him coming home early was enough to bring a smile to Batman's face. With that, he leapt from his perch. As he sped downward head first his hands automatically went into action, throwing out his grappling hook with precision timing to achieve the swing that he wanted, twisting him into an arc that put him on the roof of a neighboring building. The hook released and he pulled the line back in as he ran along the roof, heading into the Narrows.

Jim Gordon turned off the TV and gathered up his sleeping son. James Jr. had fallen asleep watching Mythbusters again. At least he watched that and not some of the crap that's on TV these days, Jim thought. Amazing that he'd been able to spend the entire night at home and no calls from the office. He'd checked his cell at least twice to make sure it was on, had even considered calling Montoya to make sure they hadn't decided to be nice and not call him for once. But he'd seen Barbara looking at him the last time he'd checked and the look on her face told him that if he made that call, she'd likely throw a fit. Not that he could blame her. What was wrong with him? Shouldn't this be what he wanted, to spend time with his wife and son? Maybe tomorrow he'd suggest they go to a ball game.

In the Narrows, Batman found what he was looking for. A group of kids looking to cause some trouble were roaming the street, vandalizing cars and mugging anyone who happened to venture near without realizing what was happening. Batman watched just long enough to determine who the leader was a tall, lanky kid with a ball cap on backwards, holding a switchblade, right in the middle of the pack. The rest were clustered in three groups.

Batman pulled out three stun grenades, then fired his grappling hook and swung out over the pack, tossing the grenades and dropping himself right next to the leader. He grasped the leader's right arm, twisted it around and disarmed him. The kid had barely realized what was happening and it was over. The grenades went off, stunning the rest of the kids long enough for Batman to tie them up, leaving a note for the Gotham police. That felt good, he thought, but it was entirely too easy. The hardened criminals, the ones who really knew how to fight, were gone. Seemingly no serious challenge remained in Gotham for the Batman.

The next day, Gordon was at his desk reading when his secretary came into the office. "Commissioner, I've got the Mayor on the line and he wants to talk to you."

"Sure Cathy, I can talk to him right now." He picked up the phone and punched the button for line 1. "Mister Mayor, this is Commissioner Gordon. What can I do for you today?"

"Commissioner, how are things?" A loaded question, Jim thought. Mayors rarely called for idle chit-chat. "Quiet at the moment," he replied, "I was taking advantage of the down time to review some of the recently closed cases from the Major Crimes division."

"Yes, things have gotten fairly quiet, haven't they?"

Jim decided to be blunt. "Mr. Mayor, did you call me for a particular reason?"

"Not one to beat around the bush, eh Gordon? That's one of the reasons I like you. I think it's time we deal with the Batman, Gordon."

"Deal with him?" Jim's voice was cautious. Where was this heading, he wondered?

"He's a vigilante, Gordon. He's broken who knows how many laws over the years. We've tolerated it because the level of crime was so extreme that we took help from any quarter we could get it. But now that has changed."

"Surely you're not suggesting that we arrest the Batman, are you Mister Mayor?"

"Only if he refuses to hang up his cape. He's guilty of assaulting at least a few hundred civilians, even more than a few police officers. With things quiet, we can hardly continue to overlook that without taking some major heat from the press and the council."

"But sir, we owe the Batman so much. He's saved this city dozens of times, saved so many lives..."

"Then let's throw him a party and give him the keys to the city. Build him a statue if you want. As long as he agrees to retire afterwards. Do it Gordon, or I'll find a commissioner who will." The mayor had hung up the phone. Jim hung it up reluctantly, trying to think of some way that he could salvage this situation. He didn't know what had driven the Batman to don his mask and fight crime, but he doubted he could convince him to stop. Nor did he relish the thought of trying to apprehend him. They'd tried once before, when the Batman first appeared, back when Jim was just a lieutenant. It hadn't gone well. He hit the page button on his phone "Cathy, get Lt. Montoya up to my office pronto. I need her and Bullock on the roof with me this evening."

"This is Stacy Siever on Channel 4's Morning Show with Dr. Hugo Strange, discussing Gotham's current low tide on crime."

"Thank you so much for having me on the show, Stacy, " Strange said with a small, condescending smile. His tall thin body, austere glasses and severe angular features gave her the willies. Stacy didn't care for the man but what she cared for rarely entered into her producer's considerations.

"So tell us what your thoughts are on this sudden, precipitous drop in crime, Dr. Strange."

" Well, as you know, I have specialized in studying the criminal mind. Criminals are cowards, who seek to break society's laws for their own gain. When the risk outweighs the reward, they will choose safer lines of work. Gotham's finest and the Batman have changed that equation, making our streets safer in the process." Dr. Strange reclined bank in his chair, his hands pressed together under his chin.

" You're suggesting that the Batman has been a positive influence?" Stacy could hardly contain her incredulity; Strange's hatred of the Batman was well known.

"Yes, undoubtedly. When he first appeared, crime was out of control in Gotham. Batman has tipped the balance in favor of law and order."

"And here I thought you were going to complain that he is a vigilante and a magnet for psychopaths."

"Oh, he definitely is all of those things. And I would argue that now he has outlived his usefulness. The drop in crime has allowed Gotham's police to finally gain the upper hand. The Batman is no longer needed. It is likely dangerous if he remains now as he will continue to be a draw for more lunatics like the Joker."

"So we just kick him to the curb? Say thank you and please go away?"

"Please Stacy. Remember that he is not a police officer or government official. He is a vigilante and he operates outside the law. And given his violent nature and costume, he is clearly quite disturbed himself."

Stacy was indigant. Her body language could hardly help from showing how angry she was.

"Disturbed? I don't follow, Dr. Strange. He's worked with the police for these last few years, helping to put hundreds of criminals behind bars. He may have broken some bones and given more than a few a concussion but he's never killed anyone. In fact, witnesses have documented the Batman going to extraordinary lengths to save the lives of even some of the most heinous criminals like the Joker."

"Stacy, calm yourself," said Dr. Strange. "Has he really changed that much since he began? Or did the police simply find it convenient to work with him rather than trying to arrest both the real criminals and the Batman? If he were a policeman, he would have been thrown off the force and tried for assault."

Stacy turned and faced the camera. "Well, you heard it hear first, Gotham. Batman, I for one thank you and hope you continue to protect the innocent of Gotham. But Dr. Strange thinks you need to just go away now. And that you should see a good shrink."

The nights were getting colder. Jim's bones were complaining; wouldn't be long before the first snow now. He lit his pipe while he waited. Montoya and Bullock were silent behind him. None of their usual banter. He hadn't told them why he was turning on the signal this evening, although they must know something was up. Certainly there had been no crime or breakout from Arkham that would warrant summoning the Batman.

Jim wished he'd hurry up and show; he might make it home in time to tuck James into bed. Maybe even watch Leno. The signal was the only light on the roof. Plenty of shadows, the way Batman liked it. He looked out over the city. It was quiet.

Batman stepped out of the shadow. "Hello, Jim." As always, that rough grating voice.

"Do you know why I wanted to talk this evening?"

"There's been no signs of any major activity that I'm aware of. No new psychopaths and the rest are all safely locked up in Arkham or Blackgate. I imagine the mayor has told you to arrest me."

"Not quite. I don't think he's that bold, not yet. He's asked that you retire and disappear."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'm to arrest you."

"What do you think about this, Jim?"

"We tried that once before, to arrest you. Didn't go well for us."

"Yes, but you know that if we're fighting each other, the criminals will benefit. Resources that would be dedicated to finding and arresting them will be instead directed toward me. We could end up back where we started, with the Roman or someone like him running things."

"Not a pleasant thought." Jim stared hard at him, trying to discern something anything behind the mask. As usual, the Batman was completely inscrutable. He couldn't see his eyes and the mouth was a thin, even line. The press called the two of them friends, but what did he really know about this man after all this time? Only that he had always proven equal to the trust that Jim had given him. And that counted for a lot in his book.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Jim decided to break it. "No one would deny that you've earned the right. This city was a cesspool of criminals when you showed up. Virtually everyone was on the take. But the cops and the people in charge are more clean than dirty now. With the break you've given us, perhaps we can finish the job ourselves."

Silence. Jim wasn't sure if that was good or not. He turned and looked out over the rooftops toward the bay.

'I'll have to think about that Jim. How long have I got?"

"Not long. Probably a few days, maybe a week at most." Jim turned to look at the Batman. As usual, he'd disappeared without Jim hearing him leave. Some things never change. Jim motioned to Montoya, who cut the power to the signal.

Hiding in the shadows, Batman stood silently in an alley. Gordon's request hadn't caught him by surprise. But before now, he hadn't really thought about it. For so long, he'd been on this... What would you call it? A quest? Obsession? Crusade? Since that night his parents had died, he'd studied, trained, done everything necessary to fight crime, to not just avenge his parents but to bring peace and justice to Gotham. He had partnered with Jim Gordon, working together with the police to put criminals away. And now it appeared they'd succeeded. Had he really thought this was possible, that he would live to see this moment? No, he admitted to himself, he hadn't. He'd always assumed this quest would one day claim his life.

He knew why he had come to this particular alley. It was the alley in which his parents had died. Where his crusade had begun. A reminder of why he had chosen to take up the mantle of the bat, to fight crime and insure that other children wouldn't suffer as he had suffered. Could he now walk away from what he'd done, dare to live a 'normal' life as Bruce Wayne, billionaire? Silver St. Cloud had deduced his secret while they were dating, but had left him saying that as long as he was Batman she could not be with him. She couldn't stand the lonely nights and the worrying. And he had let her go, because he loved her and wanted her to have a life with a man that could make her happy. But if he gave up Batman, would she be willing to rekindle their romance?

He moved out of the shadows and knelt in the center of the alley. It was in this spot that Joe Chill had killed his parents, where he had watched as his parents bled to death. Joe was long dead. "Mother, Father, I've done it. Gotham is safe. What should I do?"

Years ago, when he had returned to Gotham after completing his training, he had nearly died on his first night out. As he'd lain in his father's chair, he'd looked out through the windows and asked a simple question to his father. A large bat had burst through the window and he had taken it as a sign from his father that he should become the Batman.

Now there was only silence. He waited silently for what seemed like an eternity. Nothing. He had his answer. He was free to do as he willed.

The next morning Jim was walking into his office when he heard a commotion from down the hall. It was Clarence, the night janitor. "Commissioner, commissioner, I've got something for you. I found it on the roof by the bat signal."

Gordon walked over. "What do you have, Clarence?" Clarence handed him a piece of paper that had a hand-written note on it. Looked to be with a sharpie. "Where did you find this?"

"On the roof, Commissioner."

Bullock walked up, donut in hand. As usual his clothes were wrinkled and covered with crumbs from breakfast. "What is it Comissioner?"

"It's from the Batman." He showed it to Bullock. The note read 'Tell the Mayor I will take him up on his offer. Good luck' and below that, the sign of the Batman.


	2. Chapter 2

Quiet Nights, Chapter 2

Bruce gazed out the window of the Learjet as they began to make their approach into Metropolis. Alfred had tried hard to conceal his pleasure that Batman was retiring. He also had proved very willing to help Bruce find Silver St. Cloud and to make the travel arrangements. Bruce knew Alfred had high hopes that in no short order there would be a new flock of Wayne children running around the mansion. One thing at a time, he thought as he smiled at the thought himself. He wasn't even sure Silver would want to see him, that she would believe that his crimefighting days were over, or that she wasn't involved with someone else despite Alfred's assurances to the contrary.

The wheels gently touched down and the engines roared as the plane came to a halt. It had been a while since he'd been to Metropolis. And probably the first that it didn't involve "business". He wondered what the Boy Scout had been up to. No doubt doing his damnedest to uphold "Truth, Justice, and the American Way". Although the two had very different ways of looking at the world, Bruce had a lot of respect for Superman. Alfred was getting up, handing him his coat. Time to go and see what fate would held for him.

It was cold as they descended from the plane. Bruce was glad for the coat. Alfred took such good care of him. Better than he deserved. Why did he do it? His devotion to the Wayne family went beyond what he was paid. After his parents' death, he had been assumed their role, been both mother and father to Bruce. Someday he would have to try and better understand Alfred's devotion. Although maybe it was better that he didn't. Who would have thought that the 'World's Greatest Detective' would leave a mystery unsolved?

The limo was already warm and ready to go. Alfred climbed into the back with him. "Take us to the Regency Hotel." Bruce asked the driver as he leaned back. He might start to enjoy living like this, to really live rather than play the sham playboy to diffuse speculation about him and the Batman.

Alfred had found that Silver was putting on a charity ball at the Regency this evening and had managed to get Bruce an invitation. As he walked into the ball, Bruce scanned the crowd, looking for trouble. Nothing. Old habits die hard, he surmised. It was certainly a grand event. Waiters and waitresses were everywhere, arms loaded with trays of drinks and food. Somewhere, an orchestra played, beyond the huge crowd of Metropolis's wealthiest people all dressed in their finest. The hall was resplendent with gold and silver trim and roses everywhere. Typical Silver, never one to do things half-heartedly, thought Bruce.

And there she was, her back to him. Long, flowing silver hair. A gold dress that shimmered. Talking to Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Bruce walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and saw him. Her face lit up. "Bruce, oh my goodness! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the ball, of course. I happened to be in town on business for Wayne Enterprises and I heard about your ball. So I decided to come, in the hopes that I might see you."

Clark smiled and touched Lois's arm. "Bruce, good to see you. We'll let the two of you catch up." He winked at Bruce as they left. For once the Boy Scout had gotten it right, Bruce thought. Silver's face was curious as she turned back to Bruce. "Bruce, don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to see you. But my mind hasn't changed since I left Gotham two years ago."

"I know you too well to think otherwise, Silver. But circumstances have changed recently that might make you reconsider." He smiled slyly and dropped his voice to a whisper that only she could hear, "Batman has succeeded in Gotham. He's been asked to retire and he's decided to accept."

"Really?" She sounded incredulous. Her smile got even bigger, like a kid who had been given permission to eat all the cookies in the cookie jar. She moved to his side to take his arm and waved to one of the passing waiters carrying glasses of champagne. "That calls for a celebration, I'd say."

"I couldn't agree more," Bruce replied, matching her smile.

Lenny and Mickey were the unlucky two guards who had the late shift in the D-block of Arkham Asylum. On a typical night, the block was anything but quiet. But tonight it was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. "Lenny, are you sure none of them have escaped?" asked Mickey.

"Yes, Mickey" replied Lenny, tired of being asked that question. "I just checked them an hour ago and they were all in their cells." Lenny pulled out a deck of cards from the desk that he'd had in there for years. Now that it was so quiet, he might be able to concentrate well enough to play a game of solitaire. If, of course, Mickey would shut up.

"It just don't seem natural, it being this quiet. Especially the Joker." replied Mickey.

"Yeah, well, since the news reports came out today about the Batman, he's been catatonic."

"What happened to the Batman?"

"You didn't hear, Mickey? He's retired. Gordon confirmed it."

"Retired? Why?"

"Gotham's quiet. Crime is the lowest it has ever been. All the crazies are locked up. Nothing more for him to do, really."

"Wow, Gotham without a Batman. Hard to imagine." Mickey looked down the hall. Still quiet as a tomb. "This will take some getting used to. Guess I'll have to bring a book or something to do. Think they'll let me bring in an iPod?" I sue hope so, thought Lenny.

Later that night, Bruce was back in his room. An extraordinarily successful first foray, he thought. Silver had glowed the entire night, parading him around the room, introducing him to anyone and everyone. And they had danced, something Bruce hadn't done in years. And the kiss when they said goodnight...

He sat on his mat now, meditating. Twenty plus years of techniques learned to hone his martial abilities would not disappear overnight, if ever. He heard a rustle at the window. Alfred had gone to bed a while ago so he brought himself to full awareness and opened his eyes. The window was open but there was nothing and no one in the room to explain what he'd heard. There was no ledge or walkway outside that window, which meant only one likely explanation. Either it was a bird or it was Clark. He got up and walked to the window. Outside, Superman was hovering, his cape flapping in the wind. "Hello. You can come in if you like." Bruce said quietly.

Clark flew into the room, slowly settling to the floor. "Bruce, why are you here? What brings you to Metropolis?"

"Didn't you hear? I'm retired." Bruce looked straight at him, with a slight smile on his face.

"I heard, but I didn't believe it," Clark replied. "When I saw you at the ball this evening, I assumed you must be here on a case."

"No, I'm not. As I said at the party, I came solely to find Silver. I hope to marry her." Clark looked stunned, almost like he'd been punched in the gut. "I'm not you, Clark. I have no super powers. I am not immortal. I will age. If crime levels in Gotham are so low that the police can handle things, they don't need me. The Batman has accomplished his mission."

"I'm just stunned, Bruce. You always seemed so driven. I guess retirement was something that had never occurred to me." Clark walked over and shook his hand. "I'll miss you. We all will. Good luck, old friend." With that, he flew out the window. Bruce watched him leave, then walked over and closed the window. A part of him did miss it, he knew, but that would eventually go away. He decided to give up on the meditation and go to bed. Silver had told him she was going to clear her calendar for tomorrow so they could spend the day together.

Jim was sitting in his office, still working on catching up to the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated for so long. So far, it appeared that Gotham was adjusting to the notion of the Batman's retirement. Surprisingly, there had been no riots, no surge in crime. He was concerned that the mob would try to move back in, but so far there was no sign of that.

His intercom buzzed. He hit the button. "Yes, Cathy?"

"Time to leave for your meeting with the mayor at City Hall, Commissoner"

"Oh joy" Jim retorted. With crime down, they had more time for things like meetings with the Mayor as well. This was about the budget. He knew times were tight and he expected the mayor was going to tell him there would be cuts. Fortunately he'd expected that so he'd already drafted some numbers, some idea of where and how he could cut without compromising what they'd won too badly. He grabbed his briefcase and coat. The weather was brisk but at least the sun was out. A good day for a walk to City Hall. As he walked out the door, he wondered what the Batman was doing. I hope he's getting some well deserved rest and maybe having some fun. He wondered, what does a Batman do for fun?

It was New Year's Eve in Gotham. Silver had pressed Bruce that nothing would do but that they have a party at Wayne Manor. He had relented, but only because he had something special planned himself. He had his best tuxedo on; in his pocket he had safely concealed his surprise, a ring. At midnight, he would pull it out and pop the question. That he had been able to restrain himself this long was amazing. As Batman, he had made patience one of his virtues. No more, apparently.

The staff, most of whom had been hired in the last few months, had done a spectacular job preparing the house for the party. Alfred and Bruce had made sure, of course, that the entrance to the cave was sealed long before the staff was even hired. Wouldn't want anyone stumbling upon that while cleaning!

Bruce walked to the front door and stepped outside in the cold night air. The first guests would be arriving soon. He stared up at the stars, the frost forming clouds with his breath. Some nights, like tonight, he really did miss it. It would be cold even in thermal underwear, to be sure, but he missed the thrill. Silver slid in quietly beside him, taking his arm. He purposely startled, to make her think she had surprised him. "What are you looking at?" She asked.

"I don't know. I'm fascinated by the patterns. Somehow I never truly noticed them, before."

"Bruce, you tease. Surely someone must have taught you about the constellations and about the North Star."

"Of course they did. I never said I hadn't looked at the stars before, just that I hadn't noticed how beautiful they could be. I guess to a certain extent you could say that prior to a few months ago I had rarely stopped to smell the roses."

"And am I to believe that I was responsible for this change?" She turned to face him. Her face was lit up, her cheeks rosy from the cold. Her gray eyes sparkled. Bruce had planned to wait until after the party but he decided to be spontaneous. He grasped Silver's left hand and knelt in front of her in the snow. His right hand fumbled in his pocket and found the ring. He pulled it out. Silver was staring at him, her eyes wide, almost disbelieving what she was seeing. He held up the ring. His voice choked a bit but he got out, "Silver St. Cloud, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Tears were streaming down her face, but he could tell they were tears of joy. Silver couldn't seem to control her voice, so she nodded, vigorously. He slipped the ring onto her finger and stood. "You've made me the happiest man in the world", he said, smiling at her as they kissed.

It was a week after that fateful night. The press had predictably had a field day about Gotham's most eligible bachelor and bachlorette getting engaged, but for once Bruce hadn't minded. He was glad to be able to shed the mask that had been his public image, that of the billionaire playboy. Today, he and Silver were going to look for a suitable place to have the reception. They had both decided that there was little reason to wait long; the wedding was to be in April.

Alfred had offered to drive but Bruce had opted to drive the Land Rover instead. Silver was staying at a condominium in town. The skies were overcast and snow was falling softly; the weatherman had said there might be a major storm later in the day. As he drove down the highway, he spotted a nondescript black sedan following him. Old habits die hard, he thought but this was a little paranoid even by his standards. Those enemies that had deduced his secret identity were long dead, even Ra's. As he took the exit ramp for Silver's condo, the sedan continued down the highway. Yes, he was just being paranoid. He pulled into the private drive and pressed the button for the intercom by the gate. "Yes?" inquired the rather bored sounding guard. "Bruce Wayne, here to see Silver St. Cloud" " Yes sir, come right in", the guard replied as the gate pulled open. Bruce sounds in and turned right, going down the drive to Silver's condo. Her Mercedes coupe was parked in her spot. He pulled into the spot next to her and killed the engine.

Something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt it. Bruce, you really are going off the deep end he thought. He got out of the Land Rover and trudged up the stairs through the snow. He rang the bell. He waited but there was no answer. Maybe she was in the shower? He knocked, loudly. Still no answer. Now he was getting concerned. He walked back to the Land Rover and grabbed his tools out of the glovebox. Returning to her door, he tried knocking again, as loudly as he could manage, shouting her name at the same time. No answer. He pulled out the tools and quickly picked the lock. A very handy skill to have. As the door swung open, he had just enough time to see that the condo was completely trashed before he heard an unexpected click. Reacting completely on instinct, he dove down the stairs and rolled as the condo exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

Quiet Nights Chapter 3

Jim stood in the snow, watching the firefighters work to put out the smoldering ruins of Silver St. Cloud's condo. Not much was left of the structure. Detective Johnson walked over to him. "Commissioner, I'll need to wait a little longer before I can start the formal investigation but I've seen enough already to tell you that this was no accident."

"What do you think happened?" The snow had started to slow up a little but Jim could feel in his bones that more was coming. He was cold and on nights like this he missed his pipe. But he had promised Barbara he would stop.

Johnson looked over to the side where Bruce Wayne stood, watching. He had refused to leave and get care for his wounds, insisting on staying and watching. "Based on Mr. Wayne's description of what happened when he arrived, it was some kind of bomb, set to trigger when the front door was opened. The damage to the condo is consistent with a single point source."

"Did you find her?"

"We found a single body in the wreckage. We think it's her."

"Has Mr. Wayne identified the body?"

"No, we were waiting for you to get here."

"Let's do it then." They walked over to where Bruce was standing, staring at the remains of the condo. Jim noted that Bruce looked angry, his jaw set, legs parted slightly, and eyes soaking in every detail. "Mr. Wayne, we did find a body in the wreckage. Can you take a look and verify that it is . Cloud?"

"Certainly." Jim lead the way over to the coroner's truck. At Jim's request, the coroner's field examiner opened the back doors. A single gurney was in the truck, with a body in a black body bag. He grasped the zipper and opened the bag. A severely burnt and blackened body was in the bag. Definitely female. But her hair had been burnt off by the intensity of the fire. There were only a few strands of silver- gray hair. Bruce leaned in and took a long, hard look at the body. He grasped and raised her left arm; there was no engagement ring on her left hand. "It isn't her," he stated firmly.

" Are you sure?" Jim thought it likely that Wayne was in denial. " Yes, Commissioner, I'm sure." Bruce had to remind himself to be cautious in what he said. If he revealed too much of what he could deduce, Jim might realize who he was. Batman might be retired but that didn't mean it was safe to reveal his identity. Whoever this was, she had been dead for at least two days. She had been bound with ropes. Formal identification would be difficult; her fingers had been so badly burned that no fingerprints would remain. She did appear to be a close match to Silver in age, height, build and other physical attributes. But her hair was dyed. Silver's hair color might have been unusual but it was natural, not out of a bottle.

Bruce wouldn't lie, but he didn't have to reveal everything. Besides, having the Gotham police verify things would help later if they could catch the perpetrators. Since Batman was retired, he couldn't call on Gordon to get the results of those tests. Bruce decided he would make a clandestine trip into police headquarters soon.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne for your assistance" Jim said, grasping Bruce's hand. " You don't need to stay. Might be best if you don't, as we will be here for a while. We'll let you know as the investigation proceeds." Jim lead Bruce over to where Alfred was waiting by the Bentley. Alfred opened the rear right door and Bruce got in. As Alfred closed the door, he thanked the Commissioner for coming out on a night like this. He walked around to the other side and got in the car. He started the car and pulled out of the drive and back onto the highway to head for home. Alfred was worried; things had been going so well and now this. Alfred could see the Batman lurking in Bruce's eyes.

Bruce spoke first as they drove away." Thank you for coming and getting me, Alfred. And for coming so quickly with everything I asked for."

"Certainly, sir. Are you listening in to the microphones we staged around the condo?"

"Yes, and the bug I planted on Commissioner Gordon's coat."

"What are they discussing?"

"Right now they are discussing whether the body they found was really Silver's despite my denial. And they are discussing whether I am a suspect."

"Surely not."

"I'm not worried, Alfred. It is standard procedure. If you accept the premise that it is Silver, and that the vast majority of murders are committed by someone the victim knew, I would be a logical suspect."

"But you said it was not her."

"Correct." Bruce's face was set. He was clearly concentrating on what he was hearing from the microphones.

"So where is Ms. St. Cloud?"

" Someone has kidnapped her and gone to the trouble to make it appear she died."

"Why would they do that? What are they after?"

"I don't know the answer to those questions, not yet. But I will answer them." Outside the car, the snow continued to come down.

Johnson wasn't happy that Gordon didn't agree that Bruce Wayne had murdered Silver St. Cloud. At least Gordon had agreed to do a DNA test to confirm whether the body was indeed that of Silver St. Cloud. Johnson continued to poke around the wreckage of the condo, to see if he could find anything to suggest what had happened and who might be responsible.

As far as Detective Johnson could tell, no one had a motive for wanting Silver St. Cloud dead. If you believed Wayne, then possibly she had been kidnapped. But why? No ransom note had been left, no phone call made. And why blow up her condo and fake her death? He had seen in the papers that Wayne had proposed to her. He had begun to formulate his theory around that. Perhaps she had changed her mind, tried to back out of the engagement. After all, he had popped the question at a party, making it difficult for her to refuse without embarrassing him. That would explain why there was no ring on her finger. But Wayne was accustomed to getting his way and she hadn't counted on his rage at being turned down. Considering that his parents had been murdered right in front of him when he was young, he certainly had to have some mental health issues. Wayne, of course, had convienently arranged it so that he appeared to arrive right before the explosion. The only discordant note was Wayne claiming it wasn't her body, but perhaps he had some reason for pretending she might still be alive. Johnson surmised that with his money, Wayne could have paid someone to do the 'dirty work' so he could keep his own hands clean so he wouldn't be tried for murder. But how to prove that? He'd need to identify the people that Wayne had hired. And how would he do that? It would have had to be professional. And that meant the mob. In Gotham, that meant the Falcone family. And hadn't he heard that Wayne's father was friends with the Roman? Perhaps Johnson would have some talks with cops in Gordon's old Major Crimes unit, see if maybe they had a lead on any hitmen working for the Falcones. He walked back to his car and got in, started it and made a u-turn to head in the direction of headquarters. Damn snow, he thought as the car fishtailed slightly and then straightened out. When he retired he was definitely heading far enough south that they never saw snow!

Later that night, a darkly clad figure climbed silently onto the roof of Gotham's crime laboratories. Since Batman was retired, Bruce had decided that he could not afford an appearance as the Batman or try to contact Gordon as the Batman. It would raise too many questions. So a clandestine visit to the police's laboratories would allow him to see what they had gleaned from the condo, if there might be any clues that could help identify who had done it or their motive. He ran over to the roof access door. Locked and alarmed of course, but not a problem for him. He started to open the panel to the alarm and realized it had already been turned off and the lock was broken. Someone was here, ahead of him? He opened the door and pulled up his night vision goggles as he started down the stairs cautiously. Hopefully whoever was here ahead of him wasn't expecting him.

As he walked down the stairs, the lights cut out. He quickly pulled down the night vision goggles and turned them back on. His eyes quickly adjusted to the green hue and he continued down the stairs. The door to the third floor was open and the lights were off. Damn. He'd hoped that perhaps this was some wild coincidence, that whomever was here ahead of him was here for something else. Why hadn't the alarms gone off when the lights cut out? And why didn't he hear any guards? This was definitely not good.

He waited cautiously by the door for a moment, then certain that no one was near he entered the hallway. The lab he wanted was to the left. He looked both directions, then slowly headed down the hallway towards the lab. Still no alarms or guards. Very puzzling. As he approached the lab, he could see that the door was ajar. He could hear someone in the lab, moving around, opening cabinets. They didn't seem to be too afraid of making much noise. Clearly not expecting someone to catch them in the act. Bruce had a choice; he could barge in or he could wait until they left. He couldn't tell for certain how many people were in the room; from the noise it sounded like only one but he couldn't be certain. They clearly were not worried about being silent; they must have taken out the guards on the floor. They clearly had planned this carefully. What were they after? He decided that it was only one person but he opted to wait and strike as they emerged.

A few minutes later he heard them approaching the door. The door opened and a dark form emerged. Male, definitely. Tall, muscular body, face covered in a mask. Probably former military. As the stranger walked past where Bruce was waiting, Bruce stepped out behind him and reached out to grab him around neck. He turned and quickly tried to strike Bruce in the diaphragm. Bruce adjusted his stance, blocking the strike. This was definitely someone with considerable skills; Bruce had done this move hundreds of times before and not begin heard. As he countered, Bruce launched another attack but that was blocked as well. He swept his opponent's legs, knocking him to the ground, and followed that quickly with a strike to the chest.

Suddenly the room went white; someone had turned on the lights. Bruce reached up to take of his goggles but too late; he felt a kick to his diaphragm. He gasped for air. " Hurry, we've got to go" he heard a woman say as he got the goggles off. He saw the door to the stairwell closing. He got his breath back as he debated whether to pursue or go back to the lab. Just as he had decided to go back to the lab, the alarm sounded. Damn. He ran to the stairwell and headed back up to escape. He had lost his chance.

Jim Gordon was in his office when Bullock and Montoya knocked. "Come in," he told them. They entered, their demeanor clearly down. "What is it?"

"Commissioner, we have the DNA results." Jim knew which results they were talking about. This could not be good news if they had decided to deliver it personally.

"You could have called, rather than come down to headquarters."

"Not for these results." Oh boy, Jim thought. He reached for his cigarettes, which of course were not there. He had promised Barbara he would quit. Even his beloved pipe was gone.

"It's her." It was not a question. Bullock nodded.

"I have more bad news", said Montoya, sighing heavily, "Someone leaked it to the media."

At that, Jim stood up out of his chair and turned to the window. "Johnson."

"Afraid so", said Montoya. Jim had realized that this was why Bullock and Montoya were here rather than Johnson, the detective formally in charge of the investigation.

"Then we need to get out to Wayne Manor, pronto." He turned and grabbed his coat, as Montoya and Bullock got up and headed for the door.

Deep in the Batcave, Bruce sat patiently and waited for the computers to finish their analysis. When he had checked the body, he'd carefully taken a small sample of skin. The computers were hacked into the FBI's database, searching for a DNA match. It was a long shot that whoever was behind this had chosen a felon to serve as Silver's double. While he waited, he speculated on the motive. Someone had gone to elaborate trouble to make sure it appeared Silver had been killed. Why? She had no enemies that he was aware of. Several calls to her friends and family had confirmed that. He had thought that perhaps she had been kidnapped for money, but neither he nor her parents had received either a ransom note or phone call. The computer chirped and he looked over at the screen. No match in the criminal database, now it was searching military and civilian records. Good thing that although the Batman had retired Bruce hadn't gotten around to dismantling anything in the Batcave yet.

A buzzer on the console sounded. Alfred was signalling him that someone had pulled up to the gate. Bruce looked over at the video feeds from the gate's cameras. It was a flurry of police cars along with a Crime Scene Investigation van and an army of journalists. Bruce was momentarily confused; why were the Gotham police coming here with a CSI van and the media in tow? Then he realized; perhaps the motive wasn't as difficult to grasp as he had thought. But well was behind this, and why? If he was right, the police were coming to arrest him and search the house. Bruce quickly turned on the Batcave's alarms and headed up the stairs.

Bruce was safely upstairs by the time Alfred answered the door. He grabbed a book and sat on one of the sofas in the living room, pretending to read. Alfred entered the room, stopping to say, "Master Wayne, a Detective Johnson to see you." Of course, thought Bruce. Johnson was not known for his brains but was known as a climber, always looking for a way to move up the food chain.

Johnson strode into the room along with a trio of police officers. "Mr. Wayne, we'd like you to come downtown and answer some questions."

"Am I under arrest?"

"No," responded Johnson. Bruce could tell in his eyes that he had wanted to say yes, but he had rushed out here without telling Gordon. Johnson continued, "We also have a warrant to search your property" as he pulled a set of papersout of his pocket, handing them to Bruce.

Bruce looked them over. It was pretty much a blanket search warrant, a fishing expedition in police terms. He had no intention of just rolling over, though. "Well," Bruce said, "I think I need to call my lawyer and have him look at these first." He could see the veins in Johnson's forehead throbbing, his face growing redder by the moment. "Now see here, Wayne..."

" We will certainly allow Mr. Wayne his rights" said Jim Gordon loudly, striding into the room.

Crap, thought Johnson. He had hoped to get Wayne downtown before Gordon knew what was happening. Someone must have told Bullock or Montoya, he realized. "My apologies, Commissioner," he spit out, "I was just wanting to make sure any evidence was preserved."

"Johnson, let's take a walk" said Gordon. It was not a request, Johnson knew. He walked out the front door with Gordon, who turned on Johnson as soon as they were outside the door. "What the hell were you thinking, Johnson?" he yelled.

"The DNA results came back. It was Silver St. Cloud's body in that condo, Commissioner. I think Wayne killed her or had her killed."

"That's shaky, Johnson. You don't have any evidence linking Wayne to her murder. And no motive. I can't believe you got a judge to agree to a search warrant. Charging out here was stupid. Had I not arrived in time and you had proceeded, anything you had found would have been thrown out by any halfway competent lawyer. And Bruce Wayne has enough money to hire the very best lawyers. Not to mention his status in the community. Now, let's go back in and see if we can't salvage this situation." They walked back into the house.

"Commissioner, my lawyer should be here very shortly," said Bruce. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," said Jim. "Commissioner, Detective, " said Alfred, "While we're waiting, can I get you something to drink? Some coffee or tea, perhaps?"

"That would be great. We'd love a cup of coffee," said Jim. Alfred turned and left the room, heading towards the kitchen. "Commissioner," said Bruce, "Can I inquire as the nature of this 'visit'? Has there been a development in Silver's case?"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne. The DNA results came back. I hate to be the one to tell you this, especially under these circumstances, but it was a match for Ms. St. Cloud."

"And you think I murdered her, Commissioner?"

"It's cursory in this kind of investigation, Mr. Wayne. We don't have any leads, no motive on who would want Silver dead. So naturally suspicion turns to the person who was closest to her. You, in this case. If we search your house and turn nothing up that would link you to her murder, then we can safely eliminate you as a suspect."

"I see," said Bruce. "But if you eliminate me as a suspect and you have no other leads, then what are the prospects of finding Silver's killers?"

"Not good, I'm afraid." Alfred came back into the room, carrying a tray of cups and a carafe of coffee. He poured one for each of them. He also had a small plate of cookies. As they drank the coffee and ate, Bruce's lawyer, Joshua Silverstein, arrived. "My apologies for the delay, " he said, "But it took a while to get through the mass of journalists at the gate." Joshua was a tall man, thin with gray hair that was receding badly. He was one of Thomas Wayne's oldest friends and managing partner of the biggest law firm in Gotham.

Bruce handed him the warrant, quickly explaining what was happening. Joshua looked over the warrant. "Everything seems in order here. It includes both the house and the outer buildings and all the grounds." Gordon thanked him and Johnson turned to the CSI team that was waiting. "Get cracking," he said, but they were already starting. One team headed for the outer buildings.

It didn't take long. The CSI agents paged Johnson from the stable. Johnson and Gordon came to door of the stables. The lead CSI officer came over. "We found some rope, Commissioner. It matches the marks around the wrists on the body and the remnants we found in the condo.

"That's it? " asked Gordon. "That's not enough to call us out here, Sergeant."

"No sir, it's not. But we also found a loose board in the floor of one of the stalls. Under the board we found a small box. In the box we found a ring. An engagement ring."

" This is Stacy Siever for Channel 4 News. We've just been informed that Bruce Wayne has been arrested and will be charged for the murder of Silver St. Cloud. Tune in for more details this evening at 6."

The man watching the television shut it off. "And so it begins," he said, looking over to the bed. Silver St. Cloud looked back at him, uncomprehending, her wrists tied to the bed posts.


End file.
